Under Sheng Lin’s whip and amidst Xie Xihai’s cries, the two finally reached Quling before sunset.
Sheng Lin pulled Xie Xihai off the horse, took his luggage, and led him through a small gate. Inside, there were a few wooden tables. They approached the counter, and Sheng Lin tapped on the table, saying, “Innkeeper, a room.”
The drowsy innkeeper inside looked up, but upon seeing the tall man with a sword backlit by the setting sun, he immediately woke up and said, “Sir, how many rooms?”
Only then did Xie Xihai realize that this was where they would stay tonight. He almost jumped up, “We’re staying here tonight?”
Sheng Lin glanced at Xie Xihai and said to the innkeeper, “One room.”
Quling was a large city, part of King Ning’s territory. Xie Xihai had been here a few times, always staying in the most luxurious private room of the grandest inn. This street-side inn was quite different.
“Why only one room?” Xie Xihai angrily asked, “This young master wants the best private room.”
“Sir, all the private rooms are the same,” the innkeeper, sensing Xie Xihai’s agitation, didn’t dare to neglect him, “Would you like two rooms then?”
Sheng Lin lowered his head and exchanged a glance with Xie Xihai. Xie Xihai fell silent, shrinking back and not daring to speak.
“Fine, two rooms.” Sheng Lin handed Xie Xihai’s luggage to him. Xie Xihai could feel there was an old set of clothes inside—the ones he disliked the most. He reached in, pulled them out, wondering which maid had packed them for him.
Certainly! Here’s a proofread version:
Seeing Xie Xihai’s wandering eyes, Sheng Lin knew he was daydreaming again. Growing impatient, he pulled the luggage from Xie Xihai’s arms and dragged him upstairs. Xie Xihai stumbled along, already calculating in his mind that he needed to buy a few sets of new clothes later.
Once inside the room, Xie Xihai was shocked by the rudimentary environment.
Sheng Lin and the innkeeper were about to leave when Xie Xihai grabbed Sheng Lin’s clothes, preventing him from going. “I want to change to another place.”
Without waiting for Xie Xihai to do anything, Sheng Lin pinched his wrist and applied some pressure. Xie Xihai’s hand went numb, and he weakly let go. Sheng Lin walked out without looking back, and the innkeeper closed the door behind him.
Sitting on the small chair in the room, Xie Xihai opened the package. Inside was a set of clean clothes, but it was the one he disliked the most.
Counting the meager amount of money King Ning had given him, it wasn’t much. He was being quite stingy.
As Xie Xihai mentally cursed Sheng Lin, he thought about leaving tonight. He would rather sleep in the open air than stay here. He decided to seek refuge with his uncle.
But where was his uncle?
Xie Xihai’s uncle ran a business and had a large family enterprise with shops all around. However, Xie Xihai couldn’t ask anyone for directions. If he did, and they found out he was the runaway Xie Xihai from the imperial procession, and that he was looking for his uncle, it would cause a lot of trouble for his uncle’s business.
He couldn’t jeopardize his uncle either.
Xie Xihai sighed with relief, hugging his old clothes tightly, deciding to take things as they came.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and the innkeeper called from outside, “Guest, come down for dinner.”
Xie Xihai threw the package onto the table and leisurely descended the stairs. Sheng Lin sat downstairs quietly eating, and there were a few other customers, all unusually silent.
Xie Xihai approached and glanced at the dishes, asking, “Only three dishes?”
Sheng Lin continued eating, ignoring him. Xie Xihai, realizing he was being ignored, sat down and found a way to save face, “Dongpo pork, I really like it.”
After saying that, he lowered his head to eat. Halfway through the meal, Xie Xihai put down his chopsticks and said, “Finished eating. I want to stroll around the streets.”
“It’s too late,” Sheng Lin said. His large sword leaned against the table, and the dim light in the hall made it look eerie.
Xie Xihai couldn’t understand Sheng Lin’s temper, fearing that invisible sword of his. He pretended to be casual, “This young master wants to go upstairs.”
Then, he dragged his sore legs up the stairs with poise.
It wasn’t yet Xie Xihai’s usual bedtime, and he wasn’t accustomed to this environment. Lying on the hard wooden bed, covered by a slightly musty-smelling blanket, he tossed and turned, finding it difficult to fall asleep.
After a day of riding, his delicate body felt like it was falling apart. Yet, he still needed to find his uncle.
Xie Xihai pinched the corner of the blanket, closed his eyes, and planned his escape route. It would be best to escape at dawn, using his meager funds to rent a carriage. Xie Xihai vaguely remembered that his uncle was in a large city to the north. So, he decided to head north first.
Lost in his thoughts, Xie Xihai yawned. His consciousness gradually blurred.
With plans to escape on his mind and an early sleep, Xie Xihai woke up when the sky was just starting to brighten. His limbs ached as if they were going to explode. Xie Xihai lay stiffly for a while, then sat up against the bed, got dressed, packed his belongings, slung them over his shoulder, and prepared to slip away.
At that moment, there was a sudden movement at the door. Xie Xihai walked over to see a small hole pierced in the paper-covered door, and a pipe sticking in, blowing in a wisp of smoke.
Xie Xihai was about to grab the pipe when a large hand covered his mouth and nose. Xie Xihai struggled violently, turning to look back, and saw that it was Sheng Lin dragging him back. In a very low and cold tone, Sheng Lin said in his ear, “If you don’t want to die, stay still.”
Xie Xihai nodded desperately, and Sheng Lin let go of him, saying, “Don’t breathe.”
Xie Xihai looked at Sheng Lin in surprise and whispered, “How can I not breathe?”
Not wanting to argue further, Sheng Lin threw a piece of gauze to him, saying, “Cover it.”
Xie Xihai immediately pressed it to his nose, exhaling carefully. The gauze had a medicinal fragrance, quite pleasant.
The room was dim, and Sheng Lin stood in the middle, leaning on his sword.
After a moment of silence outside, there was a slight movement on the roof tiles. A tile was lifted, and someone threw a smoke bomb. The room was instantly filled with mist, obscuring visibility.
Vague sounds of a sword being unsheathed echoed in the corner of the room.
Xie Xihai couldn’t hold his breath; covering his nose, he rushed towards Sheng Lin, trembling, and asked, “Who is it?”
Sheng Lin, unable to push Xie Xihai away, was grabbed tightly. Xie Xihai used all his strength, holding on desperately. Sheng Lin couldn’t break free and hugged Xie Xihai’s waist, keeping him close, “Hold on to me.”
Without him saying, Xie Xihai held on tightly. When Sheng Lin moved to the side, Xie Xihai was also suspended, clinging to him.
In the smoke, a flash of cold light; an assassin finally made a move. Sheng Lin didn’t even draw his sword; he simply sidestepped, easily grabbed the assassin’s wrist, and almost magically snatched the sword away, swinging it towards the assailant.
Xie Xihai abruptly closed his eyes, only hearing the sound of the blade piercing flesh.
This sword seemed to be a good one, cutting through flesh as if it were soft mud, sending shivers down the spine.
The smell of blood penetrated the gauze and entered Xie Xihai’s nostrils.
Having glimpsed beheadings in the market before, it was the first time Xie Xihai was so close to a dead person. His grip on Sheng Lin loosened, and his hand dropped from Sheng Lin’s body. He crouched down, holding his head and dared not move.
There were three assassins that night, and Sheng Lin left only one alive. Afraid he might take his own life, Sheng Lin removed the assassin’s jaw, stepped on his neck, and asked, “Who sent you?”
The assassin opened his mouth, emitting a hissing sound. As the smoke dispersed, Sheng Lin took out a fire starter, and the assassin’s mouth revealed no tongue.
Hearing the eerie sound, Xie Xihai lifted his head in fear, wanting to see, but Sheng Lin pushed him away.
“Can you write?” Sheng Lin asked the assassin.
The assassin fearfully shook his head, making a harsh and hoarse noise in his throat. Sheng Lin pulled the sword against the assassin’s neck, holding him down. After a while, the assassin went limp. Sheng Lin walked to the table, lit the candle on it, and Xie Xihai could see the situation on the ground.
Three dead bodies, blood everywhere.
Sheng Lin pushed open Xie Xihai’s room, the door creaking. Xie Xihai trembled and asked, “Where are you going?”
“To get something,” Sheng Lin replied without looking back.
Soon, he returned with a large body bag, threw the three dead bodies into it, sprinkled some powder on the ground, and the red blood gradually clarified, becoming transparent, as if Xie Xihai accidentally spilled a bucket of water in the room.
Xie Xihai watched and trembled again. Sheng Lin was too skilled at this, clearly someone who did it often. One must remember never to provoke Sheng Lin; otherwise, there would be no trace of your death.
“I’ll dispose of the bodies,” Sheng Lin turned to Xie Xihai, “What about you? Stay or come with me?”
“I’ll go with you!” Xie Xihai quickly and eagerly replied; he didn’t want to stay alone.
Sheng Lin carried the bag, hung it on the horse, and turned to look at Xie Xihai, “Why are you standing there?”
Only then did Xie Xihai react. They were going to share a horse. He hurriedly climbed onto the horse. His buttocks still hurt, and he didn’t dare to speak. He felt Sheng Lin also mounting the horse.
Sheng Lin urged the horse, and it started running. Sheng Lin’s chest was particularly hard, making Xie Xihai very uncomfortable. His short boots kicked the bag hanging on both sides of the horse. Thinking that his toes were touching this soft and elastic thing, which was the flesh of a dead person, goosebumps covered Xie Xihai’s body.
They reached the outskirts of the city and threw the bodies on a chaotic burial hill.
Sheng Lin cut open the body bag, used the sword hilt to open an assassin’s shirt, identified his identity, and found a tattoo on the assassin’s chest – the emblem of the Northern Yan Rebellion.
Xie Xihai also squeezed over to take a look, studying it in the morning light and said, “How come there’s a flower on the chest.”
“Your Highness,” Sheng Lin called him. It was the first time in a dozen hours that Xie Xihai heard Sheng Lin address him so respectfully. He stared at him with widened eyes, and Sheng Lin continued, “When you were carrying luggage just now, were you planning to escape?”
Xie Xihai hesitated for a moment before saying, “I want to find my uncle. He can give you a lot of money, so please let me go.”
“No need,” Sheng Lin said, standing up and casting a shadow over Xie Xihai.
Xie Xihai wondered why Sheng Lin would bring him to a shabby inn if he wasn’t after money. Unable to offend Sheng Lin, he could only explain with difficulty, “This time, I came to the capital to face death.”
“So what?” Sheng Lin lowered his head, looking at him.
Xie Xihai was taken aback by his indifferent gaze and stammered, “What if I die? Won’t you feel guilty?”
“I have taken many lives; I won’t miss one more.” Sheng Lin grabbed Xie Xihai’s shoulder bag, tossed him onto the horse, and Xie Xihai grabbed the saddle, staggering onto the horse.
Sheng Lin also leaped onto the horse, his chest tightly pressed against Xie Xihai’s back.
This gesture didn’t imply affection; it represented restraint. Sheng Lin was escorting Xie Xihai to the capital, but it was also a form of custody. Sheng Lin ensured that Xie Xihai didn’t die on the way, and that was it.
They didn’t speak anymore, silently bumping along on the horse towards the city.
The eastern sky brightened, but Xie Xihai was about to die.
Prince Ning had long harbored ill intentions. Everyone in Hancheng knew, and as the news reached the capital, the emperor asked him to send a son, claiming it was for an audience but, in reality, it was a hostage situation. When Prince Ning made his choice, Xie Xihai was already a discarded pawn.
Xie Xihai didn’t know how much chance of survival he had. If he had to guess, he thought it was close to zero.
Prince Ning had favored Xie Xilin more since childhood. However, Xie Xihai’s mother was Prince Ning’s legitimate wife, holding a high position in the mansion. Prince Ning was somewhat afraid of her. Moreover, Shang Ling excessively spoiled Xie Xihai, never letting him suffer any grievances. So, Xie Xihai didn’t mind that Xie Xilin received more of Prince Ning’s favor.
Now that he was chosen by his father to be sent out, he realized how vast the difference between him and Xie Xilin was.
As they entered the city and passed through the alleys, Xie Xihai saw the small door of the inn in front of him. Despite carrying some reluctance, he turned to ask Sheng Lin, “Is Xie Xilin so good? Are you killing for him?”
“I’m only escorting you to the capital,” Sheng Lin replied evasively. He wasn’t escorting Xie Xihai to the capital for a chess match with Xie Xilin, but there was no need to let Xie Xihai know that.
At eighteen, Xie Xihai didn’t look like a mature young man. His tender face and pointed chin showed a bit of reckless stubbornness in his eyes.
Sheng Lin, unmoved, tethered the horse and walked ahead.
Xie Xihai followed Sheng Lin into Sheng Lin’s room.
Seeing Xie Xihai, Sheng Lin asked, “Entered the wrong room?”
“I don’t dare stay alone,” Xie Xihai said uncomfortably.
He was a spoiled and willful young master, even if he was about to die, he always sought someone to rely on. There were no principles involved.
After looking at him for a while, Sheng Lin finally relented, “If you want to share a room with me, just be quiet.”
